Soundtrack: Such Small Hands - La Dispute
THE TOUCH OF THE DARKNESS
'I'm Lana Arwen Lazar, named after two fictional characters. I'm fifteen; I survived the poof. My parents are in Vegas, I'm stuck in a dome. There is...' she went silent, hesitated, sucked in a breath quite similar to someone who might just have had their chest stomped on my a horse. 'There is something in my head.'
She was lying on the floor, face down, her entire body sore and reeking of alcohol, cigarettes and sweaty clothing. This was how she spent her life. On the floor, giving up. Drowning her sorrows, her memories and her fears with poisonous tobacco and liquor.
It was the only way out of it. Or so it seemed to her. The only way to get away from her problems would be to overpower them somehow. An eventual addiction no longer seemed like that big of an issue. Not after her desperate longings finally kicked in. Her longings to forget. To not feel.
She grabbed her head. It ached. Not just from the hangover she awoke to everyday, alongside the refusing of ever sobering up properly. Not just from the empty stomach of hers, rarely getting filled with any food now that Quinn no longer showed up with food for her and she hardly ever left the room herself.
No, Lana was simply losing it. Dying, really. In a way that an excessive amount of alcohol or an inadequate amount of food could never achieve. Her mind was spinning, as the presence of someone else inside her very head had possessed the majority of her control.
One thing she was sure of; she wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. However quiet it was... It was still there. She had underestimated it greatly. Of course it wouldn't disappear, just like that. No, of course it would just take a break, and then, when she'd finally feel a tinge of relief, a tinge of hope, it would return. Yet the presence had made no further statement than to make it's attendance known.
A whole new set of tears appeared in her eyes, as her small frame trembled.
'Pathetic.'
She gained control of her frantically shaking body, the moment she heard the voice, her head snapping to the side. She rolled over, desperately seeking the source of the voice. Facing the direction of the entrance, her eyes locked onto his.
'You're pathetic.' he repeated, moving toward her. Taking long strides, he gave off the familiar, intimidating vibe as his tall body towered over her. He bent his knees and sat down by her side, Lana still sitting in a half way upright position, staring at him with empty eyes in hollowed sockets.
He lifted his hand, stroking her cheek softly, the feel of his skin against hers, so utterly magnifying, yet tender. She couldn't make herself look away from him. He looked better then she could remember he had in a long time. Prominent bone structure, lean muscles, slightly tanned skin.
His hand stayed behind her neck, in place as if it was a part of the back of her head. Somehow, the vibrant touch made her forget about her current life crisis. Somehow, the complete silence made her feel serene besides her spinning mind. There was nothing awkward about the silence. Not to her. It had always been her obvious preference. Maybe even the reasoning as for why she and Quinn never worked out, why the thought of her living in the town made her nauseous; she wasn't able to keep up with the constant commotion.
She dreaded the time she'd have to sit back, open up and talk. There was just something about the simplicity of talking, something which got her to retreat back into her shell. However she pushed this aside, the comfort disappearing as she opened her mouth, in need of an answer.
'How are you here?'
His eyes had been avoiding hers; he seemed to attempt looking anywhere but into them. But in the end he leveled his gaze at her, his icy glare locking with her darkened ones.
His hand stilled and then motioned in an abstract way, unexplanatory to her. It seemed as if the limb was being stretched, staying in place and constantly growing, extending across her shoulder and falling limp between her shoulder blades.
She tore her gaze off of him, and looked across his arm, glancing down at the red, rough structure grazing the side of her neck.
Looking up again, her eyes struck with fear as the memories of his disfigured arm came crashing down upon her. His complexion darkened noticeably, a dreadful expression latching onto his features.
His functioning arm lashed out at her, the palm of his hand gracing her with enough force for her head to snap to the side. She didn't dare looking back at him. The shame intervening with the fear. Why wouldn't she ever admit it to herself? He was a monster. No matter what aspect she'd look at it from... He would always be a monster.
She dared herself to look, having challenged herself, once again pushed herself to the very limit. But looking back at where he had just been... he was gone.
Lanas eyes were stuck on the spot where he had been sitting, her mind still making out the frame of his body before her, yet the image was fading. She got up slowly, a hesitant, uncomfortable look on her face, her cheek still burning from his slap.
She looked around. Patrick was still on her bed, sleeping. Her glass of vodka was still lying on it's side, the rest of the liquid seeping into the carpet. One of Quinns fedoras - which he had forgotten and never brought back with him - was lying at the coffee table upside down, overwhelmed by cigars, gaining the status of an ashtray.
Bending down, she picked up the glass, looking down at it as she turned it around in her hand. Images surged through her mind, resurfacing yet again, just by staring at the transparent object she was holding onto.
However she could feel the presence in her mind returning once again, and as it reserved it's space, she could feel her memories being bleached from her own mind. The countenance of the boy she had just encountered with was become a stranger to her, every recognition of certain scenes, people, events were being mixed and mashed, her ability to pinpoint certain things now spinning out of control.
Opening her mouth she released a scream, clenching her fingers around the object as she swung her arm around, hand releasing the glass as her arm was hosted above her head, letting the glass fly across the room, colliding with the entrance door, and shattering.
Small pieces of the fractured glass went flying across the room, making Patrick bark in dismay. None of the pieces latched on to the poor dog as he jumped down behind the bed, seeking shelter incase the scene might repeat itself, yet an inch of fractured glass embed itself into her cheek, another in her arm.
Drops of blood were running freely, yet she didn't care about that, or anything else at that point. She wasn't able to make sense of the whimpering dog, or the extra set of shards by the bed. All that made sense was the misery, the sufficient amount of insanity she had let lose in that hotel room over the past couple of months.
It had to stop.
There wasn't much Drake knew at the moment. Though if you asked him about the mineshaft where the Gaiaphage was currently located, he could inform you of a couple of things. Not only was it fucking freezing down there, or dreadfully isolated - even for him-; it was timeless. He wasn't sure wether a year had past, or just an unbelievably boring hour.
The only thing he was able to comprehend, was that he no longer felt...anything.
The agony and dizziness; gone. The hunger and thirst; gone.
Only the remnants of concealed fear and pure shock were persistent. So obviously he felt a sense of relief as he was finally released from the Darkness' darkness.
He had to keep a slow pace as he made his way up towards the entrance, becoming teary eyed as his eyes adjusted to the light. So the power didn't turn him immune to light. It didn't make him immune to pain either. Not really. It just helped him recover from it quicker then usual. He had gotten that fact straight as he spent the past months one on one with the Gaiaphage.
So currently, this only felt like a shitty power that the Darkness had granted him, considering how to him it felt as if the only reason he had gotten it would be so that the monstrous creature in the cave could beat on him more frequently without him having trouble regaining his health afterwards.
Besides recent four months had been traumatisingly boring, they had given him plenty of time to experiment with the condition of his new... arm. That hadn't been as much the Darkness as it had been Lana, though. He'd make sure to repay her next time he saw her.
A slight tug at the side of his face, exposed a genuine smile to strike his features. He was excited. He was growing stronger, more powerful, he realised.
The tables were turned now. He'd always been one of the dominating people of the FAYZ. Yet with the Gaiaphage as his mentor, and his new additions to his already flawless battle strategies; he would be invincible.
I don't know how that was. Good, I hope?
So I wanted to inform you all that a couple days back Royalty Over Reality told me that this story - as well as Destruction of the Endurance have - been added to the GONE awards 2014. I have no idea how it works or anything, but it's still pretty cool, and it sounds kind of awesome when I spread the information at school. So yeah, I don't know if you can vote or anything, but anyhow check out the forum and read the stories there. I nominated quite a few myself, and they are definitely worth your time!
Thank you so much to FAYZlover101, TheeFirstEvil, AncientSTORM and JustAnny for your wonderful reviews! You're the best! ;)
Next chapter will be up in just a couple of days, so you make sure to leave a heartwarming review that'll make my Christmas fabulous as well as your own! ;)